


Bourbon and the Stars

by onesuperimpala



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anyways, Fluff, M/M, and perhaps some butt groping?, so much fluff omg, there is drunken dancing and dogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-10 21:10:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3303551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onesuperimpala/pseuds/onesuperimpala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>au where Will and Hannibal get drunk on homemade bourbon and maybe they dance a little<br/>Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bourbon and the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea from this post here {[x](http://onesuperimpala.tumblr.com/post/91263382924/will-makes-his-own-hard-liquor-and-hannibal-finds)}

Hannibal picked quietly at the peeling leather of Wills, obviously, yard-sale chair or some other drab consignment shop that smelled of stale cigarettes and regret. He was filled with distaste at the yellow peeking out from under the flaps and he had been waiting for a half an hour in Wills tiny home, contemplating whether or not he should throw it out and replace it with finer material. An act, he considered, to be quite _rude_ , and despite that, he found himself nearing the possibility more and more as time passed; he had seen the insides of the most vile people and, yet, his achilles heel was the inside of a fake leather chair. Sitting in Wills home wouldn’t be that bad, he supposed, if Will had anything to do in this thing he called a house, of course. The most excitement he had received in the absence of Wills company was a heap of dogs on him when he entered, and that had nearly cost him his neatly dry cleaned pants. He was only enduring the torture of faux leather for one thing: other than Will himself, Hannibal had been intrigued at the prospect of a surprise Will had claimed was in the works. A surprise, Will had said, eyes glinting with this secretiveness that had driven Hannibal mad for the past week; racking his brain for what his Will Graham would consider a surprise. Perchance another animal to add to his unhealthy, growing collection of dog fur and pee stained rugs; a new fishing rod with the finest lure. Whatever the surprise may be, Hannibal had decided with some bitterness that it would be nothing of particular interest to him, but he did not miss the opportunity to watch Will smile; what a pitiful waste that would be. 

Hannibal was past his breaking point, standing and ready to remove this horrendous piece of furniture and bring it elsewhere- a dump, the woods, anywhere to suit its appearance- but the crunch of tires on gravel stopped him. An odd thing, to be caught in someone elses home stealing their furniture, so he sat back down with a sigh of discontent and a last glance at the arms of the chair he had spent an unsatisfactory amount of time in. He found himself focused, now, on the pile of dishes in the sink that brought a distaste indescribable to none but himself, when the door swung wide open; clumsy and haphazardly and entirely Will. A beautiful distraction to his growing problem; Will Graham covered in dogs and the scent of cheap aftershave he had grown horribly fond of. 

“I’m home,” Will said, as he stumbled through the door, and Hannibal wondered if he was referring more to the dogs than he. 

“I see that,” Hannibal replied, walking over to take the laptop case that was weighing Will down as his hands attempted to touch every animal in his view, “I fed them, if you were wondering.” 

“Oh, thank you, I appreciate that. Were they well behaved?” 

“Very,” Hannibal said, smiling lightly to himself. Will didn’t seem to notice; lost in a mass of slobber and barking that rendered him immobile. 

“Good. That’s good. I never know how they’ll be with people. They’re always good, but I worry, you know? Anyways, did I keep you long?” Will said, and he was rambling as he always did, but Hannibal had begun not to notice; another quirk he had grown blissfully ignorant to. 

“No, I nearly just arrived,” Hannibal replied, and he glanced at the chair that had ruined his pants more than the dogs had with a horrible look, “could not have been more than ten minutes.” 

“I’m glad. Jack had me looking at this case, you know how that is,” Will said, and he was hanging his light jacket up on the rack. He had not looked at Hannibal once since he walked in, and Hannibal was not very fond of a Will Graham that did not look at him; did not have wandering eyes that found themselves upon himself like moths to the light. 

Quick and smooth, Hannibal had made his way over to Will, hands wandering over his sides. He rested his head neatly on Wills shoulder, breath fanning softly across Wills cheek. 

“Yes, but now...you need to relax,” Hannibal murmured, and Will was already sighing into the touches Hannibal placed along him; tension uncoiling and body falling lax against fingers that knew how to make him unwind. Hannibal placed a warm kiss to Wills neck, delighted at every reaction he had received; each one new and utterly intriguing. He was finding he was never bored with Will; interested and _guessing_ ; not used to this curiosity and uncertainness and, perhaps, Will felt the same. 

“Hmm, yes, relaxing. I’m not sure I know what that word means; enlighten me?” 

“Mm, always…to ruin the mood completely, I believe a surprise was mentioned?” Hannibal said, and Will spun in his arms, staring directly at Hannibals chin with a small smile. 

“Oh, yes,” he replied, mouth trailing kisses along Hannibals jaw line, “I did mention something about that, didn’t I?” 

“Are you going to tease me about it all night or are you going tell me?” Hannibal asked, and Wills kisses had found their way to the side of Hannibals mouth. 

“A little bit of both,” Will whispered against his skin, and Hannibal was about ready to jump out of his own. He felt such curiosity for something that could not be much bigger than a new shirt, and he despised and adored that he felt that way. 

“You, Will Graham, are a pain,” Hannibal replied, and Will pulled away, leaving Hannibal to feel cold even in the Virginian summer air. He wanted to reach out and pull him back, but Will had already made his way to a kitchen cabinet, fumbling around for something, “your surprise is dust and spiders from a musty cabinet? How delightful.” Will looked up from his searching with a stern look. 

“Now who’s being a pain? And no, you smartass, _this_ is the surprise,” Will said, and he pulled something out of the cabinet and placed it on the counter. It was not what Hannibal had expected; in fact, he wasn’t sure _what_ he had expected, but it had not been this. One thing had made itself quite clear: there were no more dogs, and for that, Hannibal couldn't help but feel a little grateful, but unmarked bottles were seemingly more ominous. 

“Are you going to poison me?” 

“Yes. Our dates aren’t complete until I’ve killed you,” Will joked, but Hannibal found himself smiling for many other reasons than casual jibes, “and no, it’s bourbon. Before you give me that look, I made it. I thought you might appreciate it. You and your odd fascination with making things.” 

“There’s satisfaction in it. You made some bourbon? To drink?” 

“No, Hannibal, we’re going to stare at it and hope it drinks itself.” 

“I don’t appreciate your sarcasm,” Hannibal teased, “but I do appreciate the gesture. I will drink it, but you must assure me that you will call the paramedics if you see any sign of cardiac arrest.” 

“You’re an ass...and I know CPR,” Will smirked, grabbing the bottle and walking out the front door. He left Hannibal to follow, knowing he would not need any prompting. Hannibal hesitated and then found himself walking onto the porch, watching as the dogs scattered past his legs and into the yard. 

“Where are your bourbon glasses?” 

“No, tonight, we drink out of the bottle. If anyone needs relaxing, it’s you.” 

“I am not an animal.” 

“Nor am I,” Will said, motioning for Hannibal to come closer, “but you’ll do this, because I’m asking you to. Now, let’s get you out of this horrendous suit, because it is too hot for that, and I want you to be with me.” 

“My suit is not horrendous. If anything, the plaid flannels you wear are burning my eyes, but I suppose if you’re going to get me out of my clothes, then it’s only fair I get you out of yours. That blue polo must go.” 

“Hmm, maybe, you’ll have to get me drunk for that,” Will said, and he fell lazily onto the porch swing. The dogs were roaming around the yard and the air was warm, and Will felt that right now was an alright moment. There were no corpses floating around in the parts of his tarnished brain, only the soft image of Hannibal placing his suit jacket inside. He listened to the sound of shoes clunking to the ground, and then Hannibal joined him on the swing, sitting far too close for the heat, but neither seemed to mind all that much, “you even took off your shoes,” Will mumbled, and Hannibal did not reply, but instead, looked at Will with a genuine fondness that scared both of them. 

“May I see the bourbon?” Hannibal asked. Will turned his head, eyebrows raised, but he handed over the bottle curiously. He was surprised to see Hannibal unscrew the top, taking a tentative sip of the liquor. There had been no gagging or signs of any sort of medical reaction, and he could have sworn Hannibal had smiled; faint and fleeting, but he had seen it nonetheless. 

“What do you think?” Will asked, and he found himself being unreasonably nervous at the thought of Hannibal disliking it; disliking _him_. Subjected to a high school mindset he had long grown out of, he looked at Hannibal with an anticipation that could have killed someone. 

“It’s...extremely good.” 

“You sound disappointed, did you expect to hate it?” 

“I did not expect to like it as I do,” Hannibal said honestly, and found his mouth against the bottle opening once more, “but if I’m going to drink it, so will you.” 

“Maybe I want to see you drunk; out of control and unrefined. You'd lose your mind," Will teased, shoulder knocking playfully into Hannibals, "and if I’m sober, I’ll never forget it.” 

“I will not become intoxicated alone.” 

“Such big words,” Will teased, and he took a sip of the bourbon that had admittedly taken him a much greater amount of time then he let on, “I will confess, it takes a lot to get me drunk,” Will said as he took another sip, alcohol running smoothly down his throat and warming him in ways heat never could. 

“I have a high tolerance, also,” Hannibal said, and soon, after a game of back and forth with the bottle, they found themselves kissing lazily in the setting sun, cheeks flushed from an equal amount of summer air and alcohol. Wills body was pressed against the seat of the swing, Hannibal with his sleeves rolled up, fumbling lazily with Wills shirt, the bottle of bourbon, nearly empty, resting on the porch. Hannibal was slightly aware his shirt was hanging open, and his hair had gone in directions new to mankind, but he found himself smiling against Wills mouth despite it. The dogs had grown bored of the yard and were laying on the other side of the porch, occasionally watching the pair with an avid curiosity. 

“We’re like teenagers,” Will mumbled, because Hannibals hands had found their way to his back side, and Hannibal had never been a shy man. Hannibal pulled away, brushing a damp hair from Wills forehead with a small smile, “rushing to get my clothes off before my dad gets home, are you?” 

“I thought you told me I’d have to get you drunk for that.” 

“I _am_ drunk,” Will said with a chuckle, and closed his eyes against the sun. 

“That makes two of us,” Hannibal replied, and kissed the corner of Wills mouth before sitting up and grabbing the bourbon. Will watched quietly, and when the bottle was safely away from Hannibals mouth, he rushed to chase the taste of alcohol off of Hannibals tongue, lingering for a moment against his lips. 

“I have an idea,” Will whispered against warm skin, and Hannibal raised his eyebrows. 

“Oh, do you?” 

“Mhmm...lets dance,” he said, and there was such conviction in his tone that Hannibal could only stare. 

“Dance?” 

“Yeah,” Will said, and he was already moving to get off of the swing when Hannibal grabbed his wrist, “you know, that thing with the movement and _fun_. Do you know what fun is?” 

“I do not think our ideas of dancing matchup, Will.” 

“And I don’t think paisley is a nice pattern, but I don’t say anything when you wear it,” Will replied, and Hannibals fingers skimmed Wills palm before twining their fingers together. 

“Yes you-” Will pressed a silencing finger against his mouth. 

“Sh…dance with me,” he said, and he began to move his body in a way that had no identifiable name and was surely not a classified dance move, but Hannibal was amused, “come on, Hannibal, dance with me,” Will said, bringing his other hand to grab Hannibals that was resting against his thigh. He swung their arms together, continuing to dance in an absurd way that only happened when alcohol was streaming through his blood and clouding his conscience. Will was pulling at Hannibal in a childish way, but he couldn’t be bothered by how he was acting. He managed to drag Hannibal off of the swing, and started to attempt a drunken version of square dancing that had Hannibal smiling wide and unrefrained. He found himself thinking that it was not the alcohol that had his defenses down, but moreover the sweet sound of Wills laugh floating through warm air and the way his eyes were lazy and bright all at the same time. He was lost in the way that Will was smiling, and in his hair that could not have been messier, and he was so utterly, and _completely_ taken with this man. 

Time passed in a blurry stream of kisses and stolen looks and then they were dancing to the sound of Bob Dylans greatest hits, that neither recalled putting on, and Will was flushed and laughing. He was throwing his head back at a comment Hannibal had made about fleur de lis, and whether or not Will preferred that over paisley. 

“You should smile more often. The world is more beautiful when you do,” Hannibal said quietly, holding Wills hand in his own and returning him to a more civilized form of dance that would have been a waltz had they not been drunk, “I’d love to take you to Europe, see you smile on the Plage de Chatelaillon; see you bask in the sun on a gondola ride through Venice.” 

“Mm, you want to take me to Italy?” 

“And France,” Hannibal kissed wills forehead, “and Greece,” another kiss, softer, pressed to his cheek. “and Lithuania,” a final gesture of affection placed on his lips. 

“What a romantic,” Will replied, and Hannibal brought him into a dip. 

“For you,” Hannibal said, and he knew he would do anything for Will if he were to only ask for it. He was drawn to Will because he felt he had the capability to understand him; see the darkest parts of Hannibal and embrace them; because Will always left him guessing, "For you I'd steal the whole world if you so desired it," Hannibal said, and Will found his breath caught in his throat and his mouth dry with beautiful words that did not deserve to be spoken to him. Hannibal brought him back up, and began running his fingers against Wills back. 

Will was humming quietly to _Blowin’ in the Wind_ , resting his head against Hannibals shoulder, when _Subterranean Homesick Blues_ came on. He pulled away from Hannibal, and began to dance on his own, too drunk to realize how quickly he had shifted in tone. The dogs raised their heads, and in a confused state, barked, only rushing towards him when they feared he may fall to the ground. 

“Your dogs want to dance,” Hannibal said, “or they’re worried that your dancing is actually a seizure.” 

“Oh, you really _are_ an ass,” Will laughed, and Hannibal had to push through a mass of dogs to get back to him. His pants were covered in slobber and Hannibal could do nothing but bring him into a sloppy, drunken kiss that was anything but beautiful. 

“Is this how it will always be? Will I have to fight your dogs to get to you?” Hannibal asked, tone light and amused. “It’s a package deal, you knew that…,” Will said and continued with, “I have another surprise.” 

“I’m not sure I can handle much more.” 

“Oh, don’t worry, it’s not that bad,” Will replied, and walked into the house only to return a second later, hands behind his back and a look of mischievousness that was worrying Hannibal. He reasoned the bourbon added to it a touch and that he should not be as worried as he felt. 

“And you’ve brought back...what?” 

“You’ll see,” Will said, and he would not display his secret until Hannibal pulled at his belt loop, “oh, Hannibal, you have to ask before you get into a mans pants,” Will admonished and then he displayed to Hannibal a brass harmonica, seemingly less ominous than expected. 

“A harmonica?” 

“We’re not _all_ fancy like you and your theremin. Let me play for you,” Will said, and Hannibal unknowingly sat himself back down on the porch swing to watch. 

“What will you play for me?” 

“You’ll see,” Will replied, and he was off on the song _Love me Do_ by The Beatles, harmonicas contrasting sharply against the sound of Dylan but managing to work all in itself. 

The rest of the night went by like that. The two dancing on the porch, only light the one coming from the kitchen, Wills occasional song on the harmonica, and the barking of the dogs who decided they wanted to contribute. It was a night of soft breaths filled with sweet nothings whispered against rose skin and Will dreamed of an eternity that went similar this. The CDs had gone from Dylan to Van Morrison and even the voice of Jackson Browne as Hannibal and Will danced drunkenly over one another. Now they found themselves lying on the porch swing, Wills head on Hannibals chest and Hannibal running his hand lazily over Wills hair listening to _Sky Blue and Black_. Will listened to the beating of Hannibals heart and knew that he would not get another moment like this. 

It was dark and they had managed to exhaust themselves through their mockery of dance and the bourbon still running through their system. 

“I love you,” Will said so quietly that he couldn’t be sure if Hannibal had heard or not. So quietly that it may be possible he could take it back, if only for himself. 

“I know, but now is not the time for proclamations you cannot take back,” Hannibal replied, and kissed the top of Wills head gently. A dismissal of a topic that should be discussed for another time, when the walls in front of them did not spin and the lines they walked managed to be straight. 

“Did you enjoy your night with me?” Will asked sleepily, and his voice had become drunken fragments of thought beyond articulation. 

“Very much so. I especially enjoyed your square dancing.” 

“I’m glad,” Will replied and sighed, eyes closing from the heaviness that had begun to weigh them down, He was so content, so utterly full of something he had been missing that he wondered if this was another fairytale of his own construction, and he would wake up alone in his bed with nothing but a headache and an empty home to remind him of what he did not have. In that moment, Hannibal ran his fingers through Wills hair once more, and Will found himself assured that this was real; grounded and anchored to a man of mystery and surprises. He would wake up with a headache and a vague understanding of this reality that was his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Hannibal will drink your comments and Will will feed them to his dogs! (which means that it will make me very very happy if you leave reviews ^__^)
> 
> [this is my tumblr !](http://whatdoyoumeanimnotwillgraham.tumblr.com) come and talk to me, if you want :)


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